As the Iron Warriors fought, Sanguinius arrived aboard the Vengeful Spirit.

The smoke of Comoros automatically parted before Saint-Gilius, as if even Chaos did not dare to tarnish the glory of the Lord of Perfection.

His slender fingers pinched the bright red apple, and his sharp canine teeth easily bit off a piece of flesh. The juice slid down the corners of his mouth, leaving a crystal mark on the golden breastplate.

“The Iron Warriors have entered their designated positions, and Abaddon and his men are also in place.

"Sanguinius chewed absentmindedly, the sound as sweet as a church hymn.

He casually threw the fruit core behind him, and the core drew a perfect arc and fell accurately into the eye socket of a Dark Eldar sniper a thousand meters away, and the unlucky guy didn't even have time to pull the trigger.

Horus stood in front of the holographic tactical table, the entire battlefield situation reflected in his golden pupils.

He turned to look at his brothers, his lips curled up slightly, "It's your turn next. The Blood Angels will serve as the tip of the spear, responsible for paving the way for the Iron Warriors."

Sanguinius licked the remaining juice from his fingertips, a childish gesture that contrasted strangely with his godly demeanor. "Understood, Warmaster."

His voice was as gentle as a whisper between lovers, and as sweet as a choir singing in unison, causing everyone in the command center to straighten their backs subconsciously.

After swallowing the last bite of the apple, Sanguinius slowly stood up. His movements were as graceful as the protagonist of a stage play, and every frame was worthy of being frozen in time.

When the pair of pure white wings that were big enough to cover the sun and the moon were fully spread out, all the mortals in the command center knelt on the ground involuntarily. It was not only out of awe, but also an instinctive submission of all living things.

Dante stood behind his Primarch, breathing rapidly beneath his golden mask.

Even though he had served for a thousand years, every time he saw the Primarch spread his wings, he still felt a suffocating shock of beauty.

Sanguinius's golden hair shone in the eerie light of Commorragh, like flowing liquid sunlight, falling on the shoulder armor carved with angel reliefs.

"For Sanguinius..." Dante whispered an unconscious prayer, his fingers clenched tightly around his Infernal Pistol.

Sanguinius stood at the edge of the deck, his golden spear light as a feather in his hand.

He looked down at the burning battlefield below? The Iron Warriors' artillery fire was roaring in the distance, and the remnants of the Dark Eldar were fleeing among the ruins.

The perfect line of lips curled up slightly, revealing a beautiful smile that would drive any artist crazy.

"go ahead."

This whisper was like a feather falling to the ground, but it instantly put 100,000 Blood Angels into combat mode.

The power armor's servos hummed in unison, and the bolter safeties popped off in unison.

Sanguinius was the first to leap into battle.

His dive trajectory was like a golden lightning. The moment his wings were folded, he broke through the sound barrier, and the shock wave generated cut the three spires along the way in half.

The first Dark Eldar who encountered him didn't even have time to see the attacker's appearance before the golden spear had already pierced his chest. The golden flame that burst out from the tip of the spear instantly burned the witch dancer to ashes.

"For Sanguinius!" The battle cry of the Blood Angels resounded through the sky.

Dante followed closely behind with the Death Company.

His jump pack spurted out blue flames and his hell pistol fired continuously, with each bullet accurately hitting an enemy between the eyebrows.

When he landed, his power sword was already unsheathed, the blade drew a perfect arc, and five heads wearing exquisite helmets flew up at the same time.

When Sanguinius' wings spread out in the smoke of Commorragh, the entire Dark Eldar defense line was briefly stagnant.

Those alien warriors, who were always known for their elegance and cruelty, forgot to breathe for the first time on the battlefield.

"What... is that?" a dancer from the Witch Spirit Cult muttered to herself. Her fingers painted with poisonous nail polish unconsciously loosened and the poisoned dagger fell to the ground with a clang.

The figure standing in the air was reflected in her pupils. Her long golden hair was like flowing sunlight, and every feather of her white wings exuded a sacred halo. Her flawless face made even the most narcissistic dark elf nobles feel ashamed.

The consul of the conspiracy, Vissarion, stood on the high platform. The goblet in his hand suddenly shattered, and the purple-red wine dripped through his fingers.

His flawless features twisted into an expression somewhere between obsession and jealousy: "I want him... I must have him..." His voice trembled with desire, "I will make his wings into my new cloak, and his head into my most precious wine glass..."

The entire Dark Eldar line began to stir.

The Cult dancers forgot their carefully choreographed dance of death, and the Cabal archons abandoned their proud tactical arrangements.

Even the coldest dark death gods stopped harvesting, their eyes under the skull masks fixed on the figure in the air.

"Capture him alive!" Vissarion's voice spread throughout the army through the communication network, "I want that perfect creation! No matter the price!"

The Dark Eldar army surged towards Sanguinius's location like a tide.

The witch dancers leaped onto the ruins with amazing bounce, their eyes flashing with morbid obsession.

The warriors of the conspiracy abandoned all tactical formations just to be the first to touch that perfect existence.

Even the tamed war beasts let out low whimpers, instinctively wanting to get closer but not daring to desecrate.

Sanguinius hovered in mid-air, watching the incoming wave of darkness calmly.

The corners of his mouth rose slightly, revealing a compassionate smile.

"Pathetic creature." His voice was as soft as a sigh, but it rang clearly in the ears of every Dark Eldar.

The next second, golden light fell from the sky.

Sanguinius' wings suddenly flapped, and countless white feathers shot out like sharp arrows.

These seemingly soft feathers turn into the most deadly weapons the moment they come into contact with the Dark Eldar.

A witch dancer was seen having a feather pierced through his forehead, but he still had a fascinated expression on his face.

The elaborate armor of the conspiracy warriors was like thin paper in front of the feathers, and more than a dozen people were nailed to the wall behind them at the same time.

Vissarion finally woke up from his obsession, and for the first time, fear appeared in his eyes: "No... This is impossible..."

One hundred thousand Blood Angels rushed into the enemy camp like a golden tsunami.

The Death Company warriors wielded their chainswords, cutting the still dazed Dark Eldar into pieces.

The Holy Blood Guards fired their bolters in unison, clearing an area with each round of shooting.

Even the directors of the think tanks gave up psychic attacks and chose to use power scepters to smash the alien heads of those who dared to blaspheme their Primarch.

Dante rushed to the front, his power sword drawing perfect arcs.

Every swing of the sword was accompanied by the death of several Dark Eldar, and all the enemies who tried to approach Sanguinius were stopped by him ten meters away.

"You are not worthy to see him!" Dante roared with unprecedented anger, and with one sword he cut a cabal warrior who tried to film Sanguinius with a recorder in half.

"call--"

On the other side, Sanguinius stood in the center of the battlefield and slowly closed his eyes.

His psychic perception spread like a tide, covering the entire Comoros battlefield in an instant.

Time became sticky and slow in his consciousness. Billions of possible futures flickered before his eyes like starlight. Every ambush by the Dark Eldar, every poison crystal arrow that was about to be fired, and even those webway traps that had not yet been activated, were all within his foresight.

"At three o'clock, there will be a poison crystal bombardment in thirty seconds." Sanguinius' voice sounded directly in the Death Company's communication channel, as calm as if he was reading a poem, "Seventh Company, pay attention to the arch bridge above, there are five dark death gods ambushed there."

Before Dante could deliver the order, the prophecy had already come true.

"boom!"

A beam of purple energy came from the right, but hit the open space that the Blood Angels had avoided in advance with great precision.

Almost at the same time, five dark shadows jumped down from the arch bridge, only to be met head-on by a volley of grenade launchers from the Holy Blood Guards who had been waiting there.

The skull masks of the Dark Reaper shattered under the intensive firepower, and their bodies were torn into pieces by the follow-up shooting before they even hit the ground.

Sanguinius suddenly opened his eyes, and psychic flames burned in his golden pupils.

He raised his left hand, palm facing up, and a ball of pure golden energy began to rotate and condense.

The surrounding air was distorted by the energy fluctuations, and the gravel on the ground was suspended in defiance of gravity.

"Stand back," he warned softly.

The Blood Angels retreated immediately, having absolute faith in their Primarch's abilities.

The next second, a blinding beam of light burst out from the energy ball in Sanguinius' palm, directly penetrating a seemingly ordinary spire a kilometer away.

The moment the spire exploded, the Dark Eldar psyker hidden inside revealed himself with screams.

They were preparing to unleash a warp storm powerful enough to tear apart an entire legion.

Now these psykers have turned into burning torches, their twisted figures dancing madly in the golden flames, and finally turning into ashes.

Sanguinius's wings fluttered slightly, and each feather gleamed with a glimmer of foreknowledge.

He saw the future one minute later, where a team of witches were approaching rapidly with the help of the shadows of the ruins. The single-molecule wires in their hands were enough to cut through power armor.

Further away, three pain engines have been fully charged and are about to release sonic attacks powerful enough to melt steel.

The Primarch raised his lips in a sneer.

He turned gracefully, and the Holy Blood Spear drew a perfect golden arc.

The psychic shockwave released by the gun tip spread out in a fan shape. Wherever it passed, the lurking witches seemed to be strangled by the throat by an invisible hand. They fell out of the shadows one after another, scratching their suddenly crystallized throats in pain.

"Librarian," Sanguinius ordered without looking back, "four hundred meters southeast, three engines of pain."

The five Blood Angels Librarians immediately formed a formation and smashed their psychic staffs to the ground at the same time.

A pure psychic barrier rose from the ground, just blocking the deadly sound waves released by the pain engine.

The moment the two energies collided, the entire battlefield was shaken. In the end, the Blood Angels' psychic power was superior, and the recoil blew the three pain engines into pieces.

"Keep going!" Sanguinius shouted.

Deep in the Comoros, darkness enveloped every corridor like a viscous liquid.

Doria crouched on a tall pointed pillar, his figure completely blending into the shadows, even his breathing so light that it seemed non-existent.

The surface of the MK.X power armor made of liquid metal flows with subtle ripples, adapting to the changes in the surrounding light like a living thing.

In the helmet's eyepiece, the thermal imaging marked seventeen targets. It was a patrol of Dark Eldar passing through the corridor below, their gorgeous armor flashing a sickly purple light in the dark.

"Target confirmed." Doria's voice was transmitted to the team members through bone conduction communication, as low as the echo of the abyss, "Execute silent liquidation."

Doria jumped down from the 30-meter-high spike. During the fall, the liquid armor quickly adjusted the center of gravity to ensure that there would be no sound when landing. The moment his feet touched the ground, the throats of two Dark Eldar sentinels had been cut open by the "Shadow Fangs" - this pair of short blades made of special alloys can absorb sound and vibration, and the neurotoxins coated on the blades prevented the victims from even making the last whimper.

The Dark Eldar commander in front seemed to have noticed something. He turned around gracefully, and just as he raised his poison crystal pistol -

“Click.”

Doria's left hand clasped his wrist like an iron clamp, and the knuckles wrapped in liquid metal exerted a slight force, directly crushing the slender bones.

The Shadow Fang in his right hand pierced into the opponent's jaw, and the tip of the knife brought out a wisp of purple brain matter when it passed through the top of the head.

Before the commander's body fell, Doria had already loosened his grip and let the corpse slide silently.

"Corridor cleared," he reported in a low voice, shaking off the blood on the blade, "Encrypted communication node found."

The Raven Guards advanced through the corridor like ghosts, with Doria at the forefront, the texture and color of his armor constantly changing, perfectly replicating the characteristics of the surrounding environment.

A witch dancer hiding in the dark just raised her blowgun and suddenly found that her target had "disappeared". The next second, she felt a chill on the back of her neck, and Doria's arm blade had passed through her cervical vertebrae.

The title of "First of the Original Cast" is not in vain.

Doria's level of modification far exceeds that of ordinary Primaris Space Marines. Micro-antigravity devices are embedded in his bones, and nano-scale reinforcement threads are woven into his muscle fibers.

"Prepare to fight." Doria whispered.

Then, the armor on Doria's right arm began to flow and deform, eventually solidifying into a gigantic blade that was half a meter wide.

"Thirty-seven heat signatures in the front hall." The squad scout warned in a low voice, "Suspected command node."

Doria did not answer, but made a tactical gesture.

The five Raven Guards immediately dispersed into the shadows, while he himself walked directly to the main entrance of the hall.